Over time, many bizarre and unexplainable phenomena emerged within this perpetual haze, and these strange occurrences had become intertwined with the lore and allure of the city, especially around the Antique Street, which was now famed as a haven for peculiar treasures and forgotten relics.
Max wandered deeper into Antique Street, where the fog seemed almost to cling to the old wooden beams of the stalls, coiling through cracks in the weathered planks. He paused at a humble stall where an old man with a drooping white beard displayed a branch that perpetually exhaled gentle wisps of mist.
It had a faint shimmer, almost like silver dust lay scattered along its bark. Max, driven partly by curiosity and partly by the impulse that rare things might one day prove invaluable, handed over a solid 5,000 PQ without a second thought, even though he had no idea what use the misty branch would serve.
